Like Never Before
by jadedromantic13
Summary: And while Brittany didn't want to go back to "before" - because there was just too much in the "after", things that she couldn't, and didn't want to forget - it was familiar, and it sparked something inside the blonde. Set before and after New York.


**Beta'd by my fanfic soul mate, Naomilyloveless.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee or its characters. That privilege belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan (even if they abuse that regularly). I'm just playing with their characters, and will return them in almost-new condition when I'm done. I also don't own any of the songs mentioned, except for the copies on my iPhone :)  
><strong>

**A/N: This was supposed to be a short (like, really short) fluffy one-piece to help me get over my writer's block for my multi-chapter, then when I started writing it, all this extra poured out. And I'm not too sure on the extra, because this isn't my usual style, but I've just rolled with it.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<br>[one.]  
><strong>  
>It wasn't the first time Brittany Pierce had been woken up in the middle of the night by one Santana Lopez. The blonde had been woken more times than she could count during sleepovers and camps all through their formative years except this time it was different. Tonight, well, this morning, Brittany hadn't been woken by the brunette kicking her, or laying an arm possessively over her body. This time it was the shrill ring of the blonde's phone on the mattress next to her.<p>

_I'm bringing sexy back  
>Them other boys don't know how to act<em>

Brittany was smiling before she'd even opened her eyes to look at the Caller I.D. _"Sexyback"_ was the ringtone that was personalized for her best friend. Santana had set it up when Brittany had first gotten the phone a few months earlier; the blonde didn't know how to, and more importantly, didn't want to change it. Truthfully, Brittany thought Santana actually was bringing sexy back.

Blearily cracking one eye open, she fumbled for her phone, pulling it up to the ear not squished into the pillow.

"Hey, San," Brittany greeted, voice raspy and drowsy in her half awake state.

"Brittany!" Santana almost screamed down the phone, then giggled.

"Santana? What's up, are you OK?" The blonde was still not awake, and was getting a bit confused. After pulling the phone away from her ear briefly to check the time, she sighed into the phone, "Santana, it's one o'clock in the morning, I was sleeping," she exhaled with a quiet hum, pulling the blankets tighter around herself.

It's not that the blonde didn't want to talk to her best friend, it's just that Brittany had enough trouble concentrating during the day on a full nights' sleep.

"Sorry Britt-Britta-Britt—oops! I think I said that wrong!" Santana dissolved into yet another fit of giggles.

Brittany was a little worried. Sure, her best friend was fun and awesome and the two of them always had a good time, but Santana didn't really giggle. Like, ever.

"Seriously, Santana," the blonde was more alert now, worry setting in at the Latina's peculiar behavior, "Are you alright? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?"

"I'm _fiiiine_!" Came the slightly slurred reply, "I just had to call you because, you're like, my best friend ever! And you're so pretty! And I'm a little drunk. And I just wanted to tell you that you're super pretty and that I miss you and I love you."

"Santana," Brittany was more alert now at the mention of the Latina being drunk, "Where are you?" Her tone was direct, needing to know that Santana was safe. The girls had had a few drinks at a party at Noah's house a few weeks back; they had left early though, per Brittany's curfew, and so had avoided getting _drunk_, as it appeared Santana was now.

The blonde had known that there was a party tonight, but since she'd been grounded for sneaking out to hang out with Santana a few nights ago, she hadn't been allowed to go. A small part of her was irrationally upset that Santana had gone without her; they rarely did anything without the other. She dismissed the fleeting thought, banishing it to the back of her mind. Right now, the fact that she wasn't with Santana was only important because it meant she had no idea where she was or who she was with, especially because she couldn't hear the traditional "party" sounds in the background.

"I think – I was at Pucks?" It came out more like a question than an answer, and Santana sounded as though she expected Brittany to confirm or deny her suspicions. "I dunno. I left there a while ago. I was gonna go home. But I don't think I'm there…" She trailed off, sounding more and more confused, and Brittany could practically see Santana spinning in slow circles to try and figure out where she was.

She was up, pulling on sweats and running shoes before Santana had even finished speaking. "Alright, Santana," Brittany spoke calmly so as to not alarm her best friend, even if her own heart was pounding a little, "You need to listen to me, 'kay?"

"I _aaaaalways_ listen to you! I like listening to your voice. It's soothing. Like looking at you, it makes me all relaxed and happy. You're like, pretty, you know?"

Needing to stop her friend before they ended up going around that track again, Brittany interrupted, "Okay, I need you to look around, and find a street sign. Can you do that for me, babe?" The blonde was easing her bedroom door open, speaking quietly, hoping to get out of the house without waking her parents. She so did not need to be caught breaking her parents' grounding.

"Ummm…. There's no—Oooh! I found one, Britt, I see one!" Her childlike excitement was enough to bring a small smile to Brittany's lips as she made her way silently down the stairs, even if it faded a second later as worry took back over.

"I'm at—West Murphy. And Baxter," Brittany breathed a sigh of relief; the brunette was literally a block from her house. "Baxter's a great name for a dog. Oh my god, Britt! We should totally get a puppy when we move into our own house." Slipping out her front door, Brittany smiled softly at a fourteen year old Santana planning their future together.

"Totally, San." Brittany set out at a fast jog, grateful to Coach Sylvester's punishing Cheerio's workouts for the first time. After just thirty seconds, Brittany could make out a familiar figure hanging off of the pole of the street sign which did indeed proclaim their location.

Slowing to a walk, the blonde hung up the phone, much to Santana's apparent dismay.

"Britt? You there Britt? Brittany? Stupid phone." She lowered the phone, punching randomly at the screen, trying to get the line reconnected.

She was so absorbed in her phone that when Brittany lightly tapped her on the shoulder, the blonde had to dodge the clumsy hand that swiped defensively at her. Brittany was a little glad that at least Santana had tried to defend herself against a potential attacker, even if she did make a mental note to make Santana study The Karate Kid more closely with her.

"Hey! It's just me, San!" Brittany grabbed the Latina's still-flailing arm by the wrist, bringing it between their bodies.

Santana looked momentarily stunned, like she couldn't believe that her best friend was standing in front of her at that moment, before, "Brittany!" she squealed, throwing her arms around the blonde's shoulders, pulling her in for a hug.

"Hey, San," The blonde hummed gently, her mouth brushing her friend's ear. Pulling back, she focused on Santana's wavering gaze, "How're you feeling, honey?" She tucked a stray piece of hair behind the Latina's ear.

"I'm okay, I think." Santana seemed to be having trouble concentrating on anything for more than a second, although her eyes did settle on Brittany's more often than anywhere else. "Where am I?" she looked around, puzzled.

"Near my place. You can come stay at mine tonight, but we'll have to be really quiet, I'm grounded, remember?" Brittany looped an arm around Santana's waist, and felt the weight of Santana's arm over her shoulders, beginning the short walk to her house.

"I get it," Santana spoke quietly before leaning up to Brittany's ear, "Gotta be _sssshh_!" Another, more hushed, set of uncharacteristic giggles bubbled from the Latina's lips.

It took them only minutes to reach the Pierce residence, and only a minute longer to get Santana almost silently up the stairs to Brittany's bedroom; there'd been one moment of panic when Santana had missed a step and bumped into the wall, but it appeared luck was on their side.

As Santana flopped not-so-graciously onto Brittany's bed, the latter took the opportunity to stretch her arms above her head, working out the kinks from supporting the former home. She kicked off her shoes, shimmying out of her sweats again, before walking around to her side of the bed; the girls had long ago established that Santana always took the side closest to the door, while Brittany would sleep on the window side.

Sliding back under the covers, Brittany watched the Latina struggle to take off her tight jeans before taking pity on the drunk girl and helping; she thought the fact that she was successful probably had something to do with her taking off Santana's knee-high boots first.

Snuggled under the covers together at last, Santana's left arm across Brittany's stomach, and left leg wrapped around Brittany's, Santana mumbled into the darkness, "Thanks for tonight, B. I love you, you know that?"

"Love you, too, S." was the hushed reply as both girls fell into a peaceful slumber.

**.  
>[two.]<strong>

The second time Brittany is woken by a drunken Santana, it was a Saturday, a few weeks after the Latina had decided that her personalized ringtone had to be 'like, the best song of the summer'.

_I gotta feeling  
>That tonight's gonna be a good night<em>

"Hey, San…" Brittany mumbles into the mouthpiece, trying to be quiet, simultaneously sticking a sweltering foot out from under the loose sheet covering her lower half.

"Brittany!" The blonde curses in a hiss, whipping her head away from her phone; she'd forgotten about Santana's propensity for yelling down the phone when she called her drunkenly.

She took the opportunity to blearily crack one eye at the screen, before "-ny? Brittany? B? You there?"

"Yeah, S, I'm here. I was just sleeping. My grandparents get up really early, remember?"

The Monday before, Brittany's parents had taken her and her younger sister out to visit their grandparents in Thousand Oaks, California for their second last week of summer vacation. The fact that they were nearing eighty and retired didn't affect their routine in the slightest. They'd both still rise at six a.m. sharp, and proceed to make breakfast, at which point they would wake their houseguests to eat "as a family" and go for their morning walk. Needless to say, it'd been a long week for the fifteen year old Pierce.

"Oh, B, I'm so sorry! Ugh, I'm so _stupid_, why didn't I remember that? Sorry, B, you go back to sleep." The Latina sounded irrationally upset about what she'd done, so Brittany was quick to soothe her friend.

"Nah, S, I'm awake now," or at least, as awake as one can be having been woken at two in the morning, "Whatsup?" She asked, a wide yawn escaping her lips.

"I just missed you, is all. I wish you were here with me."

"Aw, Santana, I miss you too. You know I would be there if I could, but my parents made me come here." She heard a whine come down the phone, and realized she'd just unwittingly upset Santana again, although what she'd said wrong was a mystery to her, "But I'm coming home to you tomorrow," she ended hoping to cheer her best friend up.

"Yeah, I know…" It was faint, but the blonde heard a sniffle down the line.

"Santana, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it can wait till you get back." Another sniff. "I just really wish you'd been here tonight." Santana's wavering voice was all it took to propel Brittany into full consciousness.

"Okay, Santana, you're scaring me. What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?" The blonde sat up in bed, turning on the bedside lamp, leaning against the headboard.

"I'm fine. I'm almost at Quinn's. I was halfway to yours before I realized that you wouldn't be there." A sniff, louder this time. "I just—I did something so stupid, B. I—you weren't here, and Puck, he just—I had sex with Puck." The sniffles were in full force now, and thickened Santana's voice, but nothing could cover the heartbreaking, dejected whisper; she may as well have yelled it.

Brittany had never been angrier at her parents for taking her away from her best friend.

Sleep forgotten, the blonde was still on the phone when the smell of pancakes floated up the stairs.

**.  
>[three. four. five.]<strong>

The next time, it was the humming that finally got her attention, in a round-about way. She hadn't even noticed she was doing it.

"Babe, could you stop with the humming? Not that Pink isn't hot, but I don't really care about her music right now, you know?" Zach pulled back from where he'd had his lips pressed to the column of Brittany's throat. The blonde had been making out with the footballer for the past… well, being a bit drunk, she'd lost track of the time, but it had been a while.

Now that her trance-like state had been broken, she could feel her phone vibrating against her leg through her bag; she fished it out, smiling happily as Santana's latest ringtone blared through the tiny speaker.

_Please don't leave me  
>Oh please don't leave me<br>I always say how I don't need you  
>But it's always gonna come right back to this.<em>

The Latina had changed it at the beginning of Christmas break, telling Brittany that it was perfect, because the blonde wasn't allowed to desert her for this vacation. Luckily, the blonde's parents had decided against going away.

"_Saaaaaan_!" Brittany greeted happily into her phone.

"_Beeeeeee_!" was the equally enthusiastic response, "Where are you, B? Been lookin' for you _eeeverywhere_! Tried to call you three times…"

"I'm—I don't know where I am," Brittany replied confusedly, as though taking in her surroundings for the first time.

"Who is it, babe? Can you tell them to call back? Kinda busy at the moment," Zach tried to get her to hang up the phone.

"Who's that?" Santana asked, her voice sharper than before.

"It's Santana!" Brittany answered his question, to Santana, she said,"Um, it's uh," Unsuccessfully covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she asked, "What's your name again?"

"Zach." He replied.

"It's—"

"I heard, Britt." Santana felt the stirrings of something decidedly akin to jealousy when she heard the footballer's name, "Where are you?" her tone had lost that happy drunkenness, sobering with concern for her best friend's well-being.

"Babe," Santana cringed at the sound of the boy's voice, "Tell Santana that you're busy. Took me ages to convince Puck to let us into his Mom's room." That was all Santana needed. She marched up the hall, thankful, for the first time, that she was familiar with Puck's house.

Barging in, Santana took barely a second to assess the situation. Brittany was propped on the end of Puck's Mom's bed (she took an extra millisecond to appreciate the 'ew'-factor of that; Santana was a bit shady when it came to a moral code, but even she had her limits), the footballer standing suggestively between her legs. Santana took solace in the fact that they were both still fully clothed.

"The fuck?" Santana hissed angrily, advancing on the boy as he took Brittany's phone, presumably hanging it up.

Despite the fact that he was easily twice her size, the boy looked frightened. Over the past year, Santana Lopez had earned a reputation as someone who was not to be screwed with.

Even a drunk Brittany wasn't oblivious to the obvious danger for the boy's mental and physical health.

"Santana," she began, sliding off the bed, only a little unsteadily, "Issokay. I'm fine, we're fine." She walked to the Latina, taking caramel hands into her own; Santana visibly softened at the blonde's assurances and contact.

And that may have been the end of it. Except that Zach had decided to assure Santana as well.

"Yeah! I wasn't forcing her into anything. She wanted it. Was practically begging me f-"

Anything else he was going to say was lost as Santana's fist connected with his jaw, and any retaliation he may have considered was rendered useless as her stilettoed foot came up with considerable force between his legs.

"You piece of shit, she's wasted!" She leant down slightly, where the boy was doubled over on the floor. "You do not take advantage of my best friend like that. You do it again, and I will fuck you up so bad, you'll never walk straight again." She had sobered up a fair bit in the past five minutes, but she wasn't sure that that made sense; nevertheless, she knew that she'd used her most threatening Lima Heights-adjacent tone.

Foolishly, the boy chose to make a wise-crack retort, standing slowly, "It was probably only a matter of time, sweetheart, it's no secret that you've fucked half the football team. You're an even bigger slut tha-"

He was cut off once again, but this time it was a pale knee connecting with the family jewels that silenced him.

She wasn't as feared as Santana, but Brittany was nothing if not fiercely protective of her best friend.

"That was mean," she announced in her patented deceptively sweet voice, as though she hadn't assaulted him seconds earlier, "Santana's my best friend in the whole world. You shouldn't call her names like that."

"You might wanna stay down this time, buddy." Santana added, tapping the boy not-so-gently on the cheek.

Exiting the room, Santana turned to Brittany, "Love you, you know?"

It wasn't the first time Brittany had heard those words from Santana, but she would always remember the way Santana had said them, so carefree and without expectations or qualifiers; like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to Brittany, it was.

"Duh, silly. I love you, too." The bubbly once again Brittany, placed a soft kiss on Santana's cheek, completely missing the soft intake of breath from the Latina.

"Can we go home now, San?"

"Yeah, B, course we can. "

Linking pinkies, the girls headed out of the party, closing the door behind them.

**.  
>[six.]<strong>

_Wake up in the morning  
>Feeling like P. Diddy<br>Grab my glasses I'm out the door  
>I'm gonna hit this city.<em>

They were at school, the week following The Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza.

The song had been Brittany's ringtone for Santana for only a week or so, ever since the Glee Club had decided to do Ke$ha at the assembly. The Latina had said that it was a good way for Brittany to learn the lyrics, considering how often Santana would call the blonde.

Luckily it was lunch time; otherwise the blonde probably would've gotten detention for forgetting to put her phone on silent.

"Hey, San!" The blonde greeted happily, pulling the phone an inch from her ear, finally remembering Santana's habit of squealing down the phone.

When she didn't hear Santana's excited voice from the speaker, she pulled it closer once again. "Santana? You there?"

"Yeah, Britt-Britt, I'm here. But you're not. I wish you were." Brittany recognized the brunette's low tone. It was her I-wants-to-get-my-mack-on-with-you voice.

Relishing in the way the familiar heat began coiling low in her stomach, Brittany lowered her own voice replying, "We're at school, Santana. Where are you, anyway?"

"S'never stopped us before, B." The blonde raised her eyebrow and tilted her head in assent, even though the Latina couldn't see it, "I'm in my car. _All_. _Alone_." Brittany could practically see the dirty smirk on her best friend's face. "Wanna come keep me company?"

The blonde made her excuses to her friends.

**.  
>[seven]<strong>

They were still friends, but it wasn't the same. Not since Santana had worn _that_shirt under the protective darkness of the auditorium; not since Brittany had rejected her. Nevertheless, Santana had changed the ring on Brittany's phone, stating that she was practicing it so that she could beat Rachel Berry for the solo at Nationals.

_We only said goodbye with words  
>I died a hundred times<br>You go back to her  
>And I go back to black<em>

"Hey, Santana," The blonde was cautious; she rarely received phone calls from the Latina these days, let alone at eleven o'clock at night.

"Hey, B," The Latina was subdued, her voice low and almost even.

After nearly a minute of Brittany listening to the sound of shaky breaths down the line, she couldn't take it anymore.

"What did you call for, Santana?" She really didn't mean for it to come out as harshly as that, but it had been a long, long day, and all she'd wanted to do was sleep, and maybe cry with Lord Tubbington for a bit. She listened for another three breaths.

"So, you really broke up with Artie." It wasn't a question, but it seemed like Santana wanted an answer.

"Yeah. I did. You know I did." Brittany paused, "You lied."

"When?"

"When you were talking to Jacob at school this afternoon."

"And how could you possibly know that?" Santana was on the defensive.

"Because you don't love him. And he doesn't love you," She spoke calmly, and it seemed to stop Santana in her tracks. Whatever she'd expected Brittany to say, that obviously wasn't it. She pressed forward, taking advantage of the Latina's stunned silence, "You're just using each other, to protect your reputations or whatever." She took a deep breath, fighting the tears forming in her eyes, "So, you lied when you told Jacob you were soul mates. And you lied to me," Her voice almost broke, she hadn't been expecting to go there, but apparently her mouth had its own plans, "You sang to me, sang that beautiful song; you sang there'd be no more crying. Well, guess what, Sanatana? I _am_ crying." The tears that had been threatening to fall ever since she heard Santana declare her love for Dave spilt over her lashes, running in rivulets down her cheeks.

"Brittany, I didn't-" Santana finally tried, only to be cut off by the blonde.

"Don't, Santana. I don't want to hear whatever excuse you have, I know you love me. So when you're ready to admit that to our friends, to love me and sing to me and be with me out in the daylight, then call me. Because I'm ready to love you forever."

For the first time ever, Brittany hung up on Santana.

They were still friends, but it definitely wasn't the same.

**.  
>[eight.]<strong>

_'Cause I know you're out there  
>And your, your love came for me<br>It's a crazy idea that you were made  
>Perfectly for me you'll see<em>

_Just like the movies_  
><em>That's how it will be<em>  
><em>Cinematic and dramatic with the perfect ending<em>  
><em>It's not like the movies<em>  
><em>But that's how it should be<em>

Unusually, the ringing of her cell phone had failed to rouse her enough to answer. Instead, the lyrics pervaded the blonde's dreams, swirling in the haze of her subconscious.

She'd gotten Quinn to change her ringtone. To the demure blonde's credit, she didn't even ask why; she'd just said, "Sure thing, Britt-Britt. What are we changing it to?" Brittany wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

They'd moved on, more or less, from the awkwardness that had plagued them following Santana's announcement to Jacob.

Brittany put it down to the conversation they'd had at prom. The one where Santana had, for the first time, admitted to being gay; not just gay for Brittany, or enjoying their sweet lady kisses, but the actual words "I'm a lesbian." And Brittany had done what they'd always done for one another, been there. Despite the blonde's assurances that Santana would be loved if she were to come out, the Latina hadn't been able to do it.

Still, she'd said the words, and Brittany was proud. And they'd gone back to sitting with each other in Glee Club.

The next morning, she awoke to a missed call and one voice mail:

"_I'm sorry, Brittany. I'm sorry for everything. But mostly, for being a coward and pushing you away when all I wanted to do was pull you closer. I know you're probably asleep right now, but I just needed to tell you that while I'm still brave enough to do it, Dutch courage and all. I just—I miss you, Brittany. I miss my best friend."_

It sounded incomplete to Brittany and after replaying the message three more times, she finally heard it, "_Love you._" It was a whisper so soft; the blonde wasn't sure enough about it to bring it up with the Latina.

That didn't stop Brittany from playing the message countless times over the following week.

**.  
>[one.]<strong>

They'd set it all aside. All the personal crap that seemed to follow the Glee Club around like a toxic cloud. They'd put all their problems, and relationships, and squabbles on hold and concentrated on what they did best, what brought them all together in the first place: singing.

And yet they'd placed twelfth.

Surprisingly, the group wasn't as devastated as one might think they would be. Brittany put it down to the fact that, despite losing the competition, they'd all come out winning something. Finn and Rachel were together for now at least, Quinn had a new haircut and the beginning of what would hopefully be a new lease on life, Artie had written the music to the club's newest songs, Kurt and Blaine had taken the next step in their relationship, and Sam and Mercedes had started something new (even if they thought they were keeping it a secret), Puck and Zizes were whatever they were (Brittany was never really sure what was going on there, but they seemed happy), and Mike and Tina were stronger than ever.

That just left Santana and Brittany. When they'd been pillow-fighting, and just hanging out in New York-freakin'-City, it'd felt almost like old times, when they'd have fun together just doing stupid stuff back in Lima. Even things with Quinn seemed to be getting back to normal; when they'd taken Quinn to the salon, there'd been no trace of the awkwardness that had seemed to settle over them since they'd joined Glee Club, it was just like before.

And while Brittany didn't want to go back to "before" (because there was just too much in the "after", things that she couldn't, and didn't want to forget), it was familiar, and it sparked something inside the blonde.

Brittany wondered if Santana had been talking to Quinn. When the other blonde had insinuated that Santana was offering some kind of sexual comfort, Brittany had felt a rush of warmth when the brunette hadn't corrected her. Well, she had clarified that she actually meant a style session, but she didn't get defensive, the way she would have not too long ago.

Progress.

And when they'd "lost" at Nationals, the two girls had done what they'd done forever, comforted each other. Well, the whole group was there, but to them, Brittany and Santana seemed to be off in their own world, much more like the way they were used to seeing the pair.

No-one noticed as much as Quinn, who had taken to watching the two girls since they'd confronted her in the hotel room. If anyone else knew them as well as she did, they would see what was now clear to her, what she'd started suspecting when Brittany had asked her to change Santana's personalized ringtone on her phone.

It wasn't anything big, there was no grand gesture. It was the way they moved around each other, as though in the throes of a dance and the touches that looked so innocent, but would linger just that moment too long. Most of all, it was the way they would look at each other when they thought the other wasn't watching, from under long lashes, half smiles teasing at the corners of lips. It was now as blindingly obvious as a punch in the face.

These girls were in love.

And so she'd taken Brittany's phone, and changed the ringtone once again.

/ /

It was the first day of summer vacation. Brittany stretched lazily under the light blanket covering the bottom half of her body, relishing in the sunlight and the fact that she didn't have to go to school today.

_When the evening shadows and the stars appear  
>And there is no one there to dry your tears<br>I could hold you for a million years  
>To make you feel my love<em>

The blonde was a bit puzzled at the sudden sound. She looked around confusedly until her eyes fell on the small device on her bedside table. The screen was lit up, Santana's open mouthed smile staring back up at her as the music continued to play.

_I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
>But I would never do you wrong<br>I've known it from the moment that we met  
>No doubt in my mind where you belong<em>

Finally getting over the weirdness of a ringtone she hadn't set, the blonde picked up the phone and swiped the screen to answer, but she missed the call by a second.

"Crap!" she hissed out, navigating the menus to dial the missed number.

_And the songbirds are singing  
>Like they know the score<br>And I love you, I love you, I love you  
>Like never before.<em>

She faintly heard the familiar words from the other side of her room.

_And I wish you all the love in the world  
>But most of all, I wish it from myself.<em>

Slowly, she walked to the door, where the music seemed to be the loudest, phone forgotten in her hand.

"Santana?" she called out hesitantly through the door.

"Hey, Brittany. I—um, can I talk to you?" At least Brittany wasn't the only one that appeared to be out of her comfort zone.

Taking a breath, Brittany turned the door handle, revealing Santana.

The Latina lacked her usual precise-put-togetherness. She was only wearing jeans, flats and tee-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. But it wasn't really the clothes that Santana was wearing that gave that impression; it was as though that self-assuredness, that confidence and swagger that usually accompanied the Latina was gone. Brittany thought she could see the dried track of tears on her friends face, but didn't comment.

The blonde said nothing. She simply offered a small, sad smile, and tilted her head, waiting for Santana to continue, knowing that if she said the wrong thing, it was sure to scare the nervous brunette away.

"So, Quinn woke me up this morning. She had to call four times because I didn't realize my phone was even ringing because she changed my ringtone." This, at least, garnered a true smile from the blonde.

"She did the same thing to me. It's why I didn't answer just before…" She trailed off, remembering the song, and the lyrics, wondering why Quinn had chosen that song, again questioning how much the other blonde really knew.

"Yeah… She's a sneaky bitch sometimes, that Quinn of ours." But the tone wasn't malicious, the girl almost used 'bitch' as a form of endearment. Truth was, she really had missed Quinn's friendship.

Now that the silence had been broken, Brittany wasn't one to let the quiet sink back in. Walking over to her bed and taking a seat, "So, Quinn woke you up…" She prompted the other girl.

"Yeah." Santana affirmed quickly, "Yeah. She, uh—She said some stuff. A-and it made me think. And I just—I had to come over." Brittany smiled at the verbal stumbles of her normally articulate friend.

There was another moment of silence. This time, Brittany was content to let it happen. She simply watched as Santana moved around her room, running a fingertip lightly over certain items; ones that held sentiment for the pair, Brittany noticed.

Santana sat down in the chair at Brittany's desk, swiveling around to face the blonde. There wasn't much room, but she was careful to refrain from physical contact.

"I'm not good at this," Santana finally stated, "At the feelings thing. Or more, the talking about feelings thing. It's why I sang you Landslide. It's why I sang Songbird. Those songs said everything I wanted to tell you, but couldn't find the words to. They said it better than I ever could with words."

Brittany felt a flutter of hope through her chest.

"You remember Nationals?"

The blonde was a little taken aback at the sudden topic switch, but she nodded nonetheless, replying, "Of course I do, it was only a week ago, Santana."

"I wrote those lyrics for you." At Brittany's puzzled expression, she elaborated, "You know, the group number?"

At the prompt, the dancer remembered being in the hotel room back in New York.

"_Okay, guys, how are we going with the group number?" Mr Schuester announced as he walked into the room, "What have you got for me?" He asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly._

_Mostly, the members of New Directions looked a little defeated. It appeared that no-one was having any luck coming up with usable lyrics._

_No-one, that is, except Santana. She had raised her hand half-heartedly, saying, "I actually have something, Mr Schue." It came out uncharacteristically timid for Santana._

"_Great, Santana! Let's hear it. Wait," He added as an afterthought, "It's not Trouty Mouth, is it?" he asked, sending a glance at Sam, who suddenly looked worried, pulling his lips into his mouth a little._

"_No, it isn't." She assured him, turning to Artie and Puck, "Hey guys, go back to that riff you were playing before." The boys had been playing with their guitars, trying to get some sort of music down, but it was hard without lyrics._

"_This one?" Artie asked, playing the opening chords._

"_That's it. And five, six, seven, eight!" She counted them in, waiting another 8 counts before joining in:_

_"Hey-ey-ey, you and me keep on dancing in the dark_

_It's been tearing me apart never knowing what we are._

_Hey-ey-ey, you and me keep on trying to play it cool_

_Now it's time to make a move and that's what I'm gonna do._

_That's all I have for now," She stated as the boys stopped, her eyes darting around the room, trying not to rest on Brittany too often, even though the other girl appeared to be deep in thought herself._

The rest of the song had kind of snowballed from there, and each member who had come with the lyrics had sung them, except for Rachel, who just _had_ to have her own bit in there. It was why Finn's part had made next to no sense.

"You wrote that about me?" Brittany asked, a little in wonder.

"I did, B. And I meant every word at the time." She finished, watching Brittany's face fall. Realising what she'd mistakenly implied, Santana rushed to fix it, her words jumbling in her haste.

"No, B! That's not what I meant! I _did_ mean them! I still do." Brittany's expression softened, as she continued, "See, I told you I wasn't any good with this sort of stuff." She chuckled self deprecatingly.

"Then what _do_ you mean, Santana?" Brittany had tried to let her friend come around to whatever she had to tell her in her own time, but maybe it was time to take a different approach, "What _exactly_ do you mean?"

"Look, I wrote that back in New York, when I didn't know what we were, what we are," Santana corrected, "And then we were coming back to Lima, and I didn't know what was going to happen. I thought that we might just go back to being friends, I knew it was a possibility." She looked down at her hands and seemed sad; but even though everything in Brittany wanted to comfort the girl, tell her that her fears were unfounded, and that they could never be just friends, she stayed silent. Although Santana had needed that shove, now that she was talking, she needed her space to get it all out.

Locking eyes with Brittany, she continued, "But then we lost. And I didn't care. I didn't care because it meant that we were us again. Like, everyone else was there but we got to be in this bubble. We lost, and that sucks. But getting to be us again—it's so much better. Even if all we were going to be was friends, I would take it."

Brittany could feel tears pricking at her eyes as Santana's own eyes shone with unshed tears, pleading for understanding, "And then _yesterday_. Yesterday you said you loved me more than anything else in the world. And that because of that, you knew that anything was possible."

Santana rolled the chair forward until she was as close to the blonde as she could be, and took the dancers hands, looking deeply into her eyes, "You said that, and my whole world stopped. I realized you were right, nothing is impossible. In that moment, I knew exactly what we were." Brittany had tilted her head to the side, waiting for Santana's conclusion, "You're my best friend, Brittany, my soul mate. And I love you more than anyone's loved anything ever."

Brittany did nothing to fight the tears spilling over her lashes and neither did Santana, who drew in a shaky breath, "I don't wanna dance in the dark anymore, Brittany." She announced quietly, resolutely, "I want to dance with you all the time. In the daylight, in front of everyone, I don't care what people say anymore. I just—I love you. You're my best friend, and I love you. I'm in love with you." She shrugged, as if to say 'it's that simple', and brought one hand up to swipe at the make-up under her eyes. A pale hand met tan as Brittany cupped Santana's cheek, gently wiping away the tears.

"I wrote my lyrics for you, too," Brittany stated, momentarily confusing the Latina, "I was sick of telling you that you had nothing to be afraid of, and to embrace your awesome self, so I put it in the song," It was then that Santana remembered.

"_Okay, so now we're looking for a bridge, something to lead us into the chorus." Mr Schue seemed pretty happy with the progress the team had made. They even had music for the bridge, they just needed the words._

"_Well, coming from Santana's lyrics, maybe something about laying your fears on the line?" Artie suggested, "Lay it all out…" He tested out, playing the tune on his guitar. He shook his head, playing it again, "Lay it all down…"_

"_Got something to say?" Most eyes shot to Brittany, who up until now had barely said boo, drawing aimless patterns on her notepad._

_Artie continued, an invitation to the blonde to continue "Lay it all down…" _

"_Throw your doubt away." The looks on the rest of the faces ranged from confusion, to outright shock, and to Santana, who wore a deliberately blank expression._

"I was trying to challenge you. I knew you needed the push, and I thought New York would be the perfect time. The rest of the Glee Club wouldn't have cared, and it's not like we actually know anyone else there. And then, you didn't do anything." Despite the seriousness of her words, Brittany wore a small smile, so Santana knew it was going to be okay. That _they_ would be okay. "So I was determined to be your friend, your best friend. And just hope that you would realize that it was all gonna be alright. I knew you loved me, I just needed you to realize that I love you back, and that you would never lose me."

Santana was taken aback once again by the intelligent thought behind Brittany's words; not that the blonde wasn't smart, she was just rarely as direct and succinct as she had been the past two days.

There were no words, but that was okay, because Santana had heard what she needed, the words "you would never lose me" running through her mind. Instead, she gently cupped Brittany's cheek with her right hand, drawing her in until she could feel Brittany's breath on her lips, pausing for just a second, to make sure this was what the blonde wanted.

Seeing the assent and desire in clear blue eyes, the girls closed the distance between them, lips pressing together for just a few perfect seconds before drawing back.

"I love you, so much. I'll love you forever" Santana whispered in Brittany's ear, echoing words the blonde had said to her months earlier, as she pulled the blonde up into a tight hug. And although she'd said the words a thousand times before, Brittany would always remember this time because it was the beginning of forever.

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><p><strong>I've never written Brittana before, so I'd love to get some feedback :)<br>Reviews are like sweet lady kisses.  
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